


car mes plaies s'ouvrent

by fruitwhirl



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Post Crooked Kingdom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 15:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11466054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitwhirl/pseuds/fruitwhirl
Summary: It’s much easier, he finds, for her to touch him than for him to touch her. She’ll stroke the edge of his cheek softly when she thinks he’s asleep, and when he attends a dinner held by Jesper and Wylan, she’ll place a tentative but ultimately anchoring hand on his knee underneath the table. But she won’t do anything more, and for that, he’s grateful. Because no matter how much he wants her to press herself against him, how much he longs to hold her—he can’t bring himself to. And she won’t push him. Inej won’t wait for him, he knows, but she still stays even when he steels himself under her touch.He thinks that he loves her.





	car mes plaies s'ouvrent

**Author's Note:**

> ok so this was a prompt asked on my [tumblr](http://dmigod.tumblr.com) and so i was just going to put it in my prompt series for six of crows, and then i started writing it and it got long enough to post by itself, so here we are.
> 
> title from ["faufile"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4j8DVTkZdCE%0A) by charlotte cardin, meaning "for my open wounds." i wrote this entire thing while listening to french acoustic music, so you're welcome.
> 
> prompt: kanej + first kiss

When she leaves, Kaz rarely sees her off. He’s not one for goodbyes—especially ones that are only temporary, that feel hollow even if there’s the fact that somewhere deep inside of him, hidden in a concealed orifice, he knows that it _could_ be the last he sees of Inej. He fights with that part of himself often, argues that the girl who’s proven herself repeatedly could find a way out of any situation she got into.

And every few months, when her ship docks itself at Berth twenty-two and those six quick bells ring out, when she quietly slips into his office and onto his bed while he sits at his desk, when she lies on his sheets staring at the ceiling and he’s glancing at her form to ensure she’s unharmed, his belief in her and her skills is confirmed. They don’t talk much, but he can’t help the smile that will sneak its way onto his face as she tells him of her trials on the sea, of the men and women and children she’s saved, of the men and women she’s killed to free them.

He wonders how many nights she’s spent awake in the underbelly of her ship, prayers spilling from her lips for the lives she’s taken.

At some point, during her visit, he’ll move to the mattress where she sits, her back pressed against the wall, and he’ll lie down in the same spot she previously was, his gloves already discarded (it becomes a reflex for him whenever those six sharp rings resonate throughout the Barrel). Sometimes, he’ll get his head close to her lap, where her legs are crossed, and as they talk about her parents and her family in Ravka, she’ll reach out hesitantly, and then pause, her hand trembling slightly in the cool air until he nods and she’ll slowly card her fingers though his hair. He’ll only brace himself for a moment or two before allowing himself to relax, for his eyes to close.

It’s much easier, he finds, for her to touch him than for him to touch her. She’ll stroke the edge of his cheek softly when she thinks he’s asleep, and when he attends a dinner held by Jesper and Wylan, she’ll place a tentative but ultimately anchoring hand on his knee underneath the table. But she won’t do anything more, and for that, he’s grateful. Because no matter how much he wants her to press herself against him, how much he longs to hold her—he can’t bring himself to. And she won’t push him. Inej won’t wait for him, he knows, but she still stays even when he steels himself under her touch.

He thinks that he loves her.

But when she leaves, he doesn’t see her off; he figures she’d seek him out if she wanted him to. Sometimes, he wishes that he’s at the dock when she departs, but he doesn’t know if he could bear watching _the Wraith_ leave his harbor each time.

When she’s gone, Kaz doesn’t sulk. At least, every time Jesper jokingly insists that that’s what he’s doing, it garners a glare and a half-hearted insult that doesn’t leave much of a mark. But he supposes that his chest _does_ ache when he glances over at his windowsill, empty save for a few crows that linger and yearn as he does for the girl who used to sit there, brown eyes gleaming like liquid amber in the sunlight. Sometimes, he thinks he hears her phantom laugh over his shoulder, even though she’s hundreds of miles away in the midst of the sea.

While they don’t keep in constant contact, he’ll receive a letter from her every once in a while, and if she’s docked for long periods of time, she’ll tell him where she is, so that he could write to her if he wanted to. He never does; he’s not sure what words would spill from his pen onto the paper.

_I miss you? I love you? My heart breaks every time you leave? Each time you depart I feel as though I’m going slowly and slowly mad?_

There’s an instant, every night that he sleeps right before the fall, that he wishes he had the strength to say those things. Because Inej deserves more than a scared boy in a suit who is too afraid to speak his mind, who chokes on his tongue any moment he considers telling her everything. She deserves so much more than what this shit-stain of a city has to offer her, and yet she comes back.

She comes back.

A year after she starts traveling, three months since he’s seen her last, he hears the six bells, ringing out sharp, one right after another. He waits—it typically takes her and her largely female crew of sixteen upwards of an hour to unload her ship in its berth, and then the trip from the port to the Slat leans towards forty-five minutes (though for her, a half hour). However, it’s nearly midnight, three hours after their docking, and he still hasn’t seen her long black braid or her tired eyes, and _yes_ he’s worried. When no one else is around, he’s able to admit that to himself, at least.

Kaz waits until a quarter past before he makes his decision, and he’s out the door of his office and then out the door of the sad old building and down the street before he can convince himself otherwise.

First, he goes by Wylan’s home on the edge of the Stave, and the quiet house is missing that hum, that sort of _presence_ Inej possesses that is so individual to her, and so he leaves before waking any of the residents.

He goes to the docks second, and breathes a short sigh of relief when he sees a small figure on the edge of one of the piers, contrasting against the light of the full moon that nearly touches the water. As he draws closer, he notices that her back is to him, and he makes sure that his cane is against the ground at certain points so that his arrival doesn’t come as a surprise in anyway.

When he reaches her, she’s got her legs drawn up against her front, her arms bringing them ever closer to her chest. He doesn’t announce himself, doesn’t need to, before sitting down next to her, letting his cane lie next to him. And they sit like this, silently, allowing their mere existences to rest in the cool of the night, under the stars.

It’s a few minutes before either one of them speaks.

“Are you okay?” The question is tentative, even though he tries not to make it that way.

Inej laughs, but it’s just a short huff of breath rather than her, normal full-blown mirth. “I’m not hurt.”

He nods, thankful for that at least. But he senses an underlying ache in her tone, something that wasn’t there the last time they spoke. Three months ago.

“That’s not what I asked.” He tries to keep his words soft, because now is not the time for cruelty. Even he can understand that.

She turns from him, and he can see the slight tremor reverberating throughout her body even in the low light. It’s another minute—another sixty-three seconds or so—before she can speak. Her voice sounds raw and watery. “They say I strike fear in the hearts of those who do not deserve to be feared.”

“As they should.”

She shifts back towards him then, her knee only a few inches away from his. His gaze moves to her face, and her eyes shine with unshed tears. She has a small scar above her mouth that wasn’t there before she left. “They say I strike fear in the hearts of children and those who have no reason to be afraid of me.” She takes in a shaky breath. “I scare those whom I’m trying to save. I was off the southern coast of Fjerda, and we had taken a ship that was transporting slaves, and we killed the captain and his first mate, and one of the little boys on board asked if I was going to kill him too.”

“Inej—”

“No, Kaz.” He takes note of a tear that falls down her skin, that unceremoniously drops onto her clavicle. “I set out to help rid the world of those terrible monsters and,” she chokes on something; maybe her words, maybe a sob. “I _became_ a monster in the process.”

She’s looking at him now, eyes both soft and hard at the same time, brimming with the sort of emotion that should send him hurtling back to his cold shadows. It’s then that he reaches out, slowly and hesitantly, his hand shaking but just _barely._ When his fingers touch her face, her skin is cool and wet, and he almost pulls back from the memory of the _cold dead damp bodies pushed against him_ but then he hears a tender “Kaz” and it grounds him, it grounds him enough that he can fully cup her cheek.

How could he buy her a boat and her freedom and even a way out and yet not be able to touch her like this? He breathes in, trembling. “Inej, I’ve been around monsters my entire life, I am one myself, but you are not one of them.”

She looks like she’s about to retort, and he’s readying himself with a reply about how she’s one of the best goddamn things on this earth, about how she could take the place of the stars or the sun, and the sky would only shine brighter. Instead, his gaze is redirected to her lips when she bites them like she does when she’s uncertain.

Kaz continues. “We all do monstrous things sometimes, some more than others. The things we’ve done to survive, they don’t define us. It’s what we do with it that matters; for me, that includes building a horrible empire around me, and then burning it to the ground. For Nina, it’s honoring Matthias’ memory and helping as many lost fjerdans find their way as she can. And for you, it’s being the person fourteen year old you needed, saving those who are trapped in a situation they don’t know how to get out of. It’s saving their humanity.”

He draws closer then, and he thinks she does too, because just as his mouth is only a few inches from hers, she sighs out a small “Thank you.” He’s the one to lean forward after that, and he’s the one who kisses her first, a brush against her lips. His first instinct is to pull away, and he starts to when she doesn’t seem to respond, but then she pushes forward.

It’s slow and soft but hard and urgent in the same breath, and he panics for only a moment before his hand slides down to her neck, and he can feel the pulse point at its juncture. He can feel her heartbeat, and he can feel her _life,_ her living breathing soul, and all the love she has within her.

She’s an anchor for him, in the darkest of night, and he hopes he can be one for her too.

**Author's Note:**

> check out my [tumblr](http://dmigod.tumblr.com) and feel free to send me prompts. and yes, there was a the 100 reference in there, let me know if you caught it.


End file.
